Once before time became expensive a droolworthy citizen named Peterkin Appletree decided to upcycle his house. The first thing he did was demolish his heritage-protected former home, displaying the original front door as a token of his respect for the past.

Peterkin was one of the twitterati and spoke in short, meaning-condensed sentences. This became a major problem during the reconstruction as the workmen wrongly filled in the missing links of his reasoning regarding materials purchased. As a result costs were doubled causing immense capital gain loss in a virtual bear market situation.

The ultimate outcome was a superb, contemporary mansion without a roof. Now Appletree was above all else a modern man. He was by profession an investment advisor. Downticks were a normal part of his existence. Equities, face values, freezes were like everyday meals to him. So Peterkin didn’t worry.

Peterkin didn’t scream or scurry. He hedged and he dredged and he studied the market, as he turned his home into an open-air cinema and slept in the laundry. Who needs a real home when it can become venture capital? Success struck this man like lightning. Chain lightning. The money kept rolling in. Last we heard he is on the boards of several banks.

On the matter of time, beginnings can be surprising. Things we see as ordinary were often invented for us by gifted thinkers. Do you remember the telegram? The first one was sent by Samuel Morse in 1844 from Washington DC toBaltimore, Maryland. It read: “What hath God wrought?” In the same year the safety match was invented by Sweden’s chemistry academic Gustaf Erik Pasch and the first safe was invented by Alexander Fichet, a famous Paris locksmith. Two years later the German astronomer Johann Galle discovered the planet Neptune and six years later Isaac Singer patented the sewing machine. In 1852 Elisha Otis gave us the elevator and the brown paper bag was invented.

So you see, even to live ordinary lives we have to stand on the shoulders of giants.

A very different kettle of sea creatures (cliché avoided) is Gerald Frankenfood. Now Gerry is a perfect example of the modern-day illiterati. Books are unknown to him. With traditional written discourse he is something between a muggle and a noob. Pen and paper are also his known unknowns that he proudly knows are known to be unknown.His tool is the iPhone.

If he writes a cyber question to you it might look something like this: wut hpns win u write lyk dis.His answer could easily be OMG itz obvs.

Do you see what I mean? When you finally translate it, it’s much ado about nothing but nothing.

You might be wondering how Gerry and his ilk spend their time. Not hard to discover. They ride the radio waves and cultivate profitable shockable ignorance.

Ignorance can creep up on you. Notice this very deceptive lead-you-astray rime.

Mary Mary quite contrary

How does your garden grow?

With silver bells and cockle shells

And pretty maids all in a row.

Did you know that this Mary was actually Mary Tudor? Her contrary nature led her to execute hundreds of enemies (284 it seems) mainly on religious grounds. A widely held view is that the garden was the cemetery (constantly expanding) where Mary’s victims were buried.

The silver bells were thumb screws and the cockle shells were instruments of torture for the genitals. The pretty maids it is said were guillotines although most of “Bloody Mary’s” victims were put to death by burning. Interesting though. How often reality is hidden by false appearances!

How deceptive that illustration is! As a former teacher I find myself noticing how we currently mislead children in so many ways. I’m holding back here a tirade against Australia’s categorisation of pupils via the NAPLAN test. I’m tending to be like Bertrand Russell these days and hold my beliefs tentatively. Things keep revealing themselves as I grow older.

Take the Casablanca Conference between Franklin D. Roosevelt and Winston Churchill in January 1943. I’m getting more ideas about it. Historians will tell you that this meeting laid plans for the rest of the war and declared absolute surrender from the Axis powers a confirmed demand at war’s end.

This was important later in 1945 when the Japanese were afraid of the word “absolute” and the danger for their Emperor if they gave in. The surrender was thus delayed allowing time for the atomic bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. The thought now is that Japan was ready to quit before the two bombs were dropped but for fear of losing the Emperor. When peace ultimately came Hirohito was safe after all. So were all those nuclear deaths really necessary?

Fate plays strange tricks on ordinary people sometimes. It did with me when I first met Ernest Mervyn McQuillan.

That was about two years ago. I was the ordinary person. Ern was, among other remarkable things, the trick that Fate played on me.

Ern McQuillan OAM

The meeting arranged by my friend Les Johns did the trick. It literally changed my life.

First, I discovered that Ern was once a Newtown (Sydney Australia) kid like me. We went to the same Newtown school. We were both interested in sport and were both quite good at it. There the comparison ends. Very definitely.

You see, Ern is one of Australia’s best known twentieth century press photographers. His dedication and skill saw him in continuous demand throughout the second half of the twentieth century under the gaze of such demanding taskmasters as Ezra Norton, the Packers, and Rupert Murdoch.

As for me, I am merely an ex-teacher in schools and universities, and a writer with a particular interest in history. That might help you to understand why my weekly chats with Ern for the past two years have made me a riveted listener, and a discoverer of surprising historical details few people would know about.

I have got so close to Ern’s life I feel my own life has changed into something close to his. Seriously. At times I think I am, like Ern, a former drinking mate of Keith Miller, the famous Australian cricketer. Ern knew him very well, as you can see.

Keith posed this shot for Ern.Keith Miller In His Golden DaysIn the company of a friend.

The Mighty Bumper Farrell – Named After The Cigarette Bumpers He Slyly Smoked At School. He was a very good friend and drinking mate for Ern.

I’m beginning to dream I was the one who showed Richard Nixon how my old (now vintage) camera worked. No fancy digital machines then. The Quarter Plate Speed Graphic Press Camera was no piece of trivia. It was heavy. It gave you once in a lifetime pictures close up or far away; still or moving.

One problem however! You had to be an artist to use it. You had to predict the shot before the event happened. You had to have a sense of proportion and sensitivity. You had to get the light and other mechanics right. And you had to have allies in your human subjects and a rare kind of affinity with the non humanYou developed the photos taken with your big, heavy camera yourself, if they were satisfactory. One shot and you’re in — or you’re out …

After sharing so many stories with Ern, I feel I am really identifying with that military photographer of World War II?

So many of them went, including Ern as photographer.

Reality again. I WAS there at the Sydney wharf when the hospital ship Manunda brought my grandfather Sidney Isaac Levi home after his work on the Burma Railway. I have since discovered Ern was there with my family and me.

The Manunda: Hospital Ship

Was that me who knew famous jockeys and their families as close friends? Did I visit their homes and family functions?

Was I available for special shots to fit in with the Jockeys’ lifestyle? Was that me, for example, who needed a shot of the champion George Moore in his colours? Did I go to his Sydney home and find him playing tennis? Did he kindly agree to help me, but refuse the arduous task of exchanging tennis shorts, shoes and socks for jodhpurs? You can find the image of George here, sans tennis shoes and socks.

This is George Moore, a close friend, riding Tulloch.

Was it me who flew around Australia for four years in a Gypsy moth taking photos of the Australian landscapes, including the great Maitland flood of 1955? Was it me who was taught to fly by the pilot in those air voyages, A.J.R. Oates,”Titus” Oats, the DFC+ war hero of Beaufort Torpedo Bomber fame in New Guinea and elsewhere, to give “Titus” a break from flying?

A little sad reality. One thing I really am — extremely sad now to discover that “Titus,” incredibly brave in wartime, was later killed in a crop dusting accident in South Africa? Ern gave him so much life in our discussions that the later discovery about Africa was almost like a bereavement.

Did I pick up Mrs Petrov’s shoe and hand it to the Russian agents when she was being arrested at Mascot, Sydney in the 1950s by the agents? Ern did; after he took this picture.

Petrova Being Taken To The Plane At Mascot Airport. Ern was part of history!

Was I the young son who learnt to box in my father’s gymnasiums, training and road running with some of the 60+ champions my father, Ern McQuillan the famous and perhaps greatest Australian boxing manager, trained and managed?

Ern’s Father: Ernest Edward McMillan OAM

Did I actually get to know Chief Little Wolf and “Dirty” Dick Raines, the famous enemies of the wrestling ring, who were actually the best of friends and worked out their wrestling moves at Ern’s father’s gymnasium?

Reality again. I too am really glad now that young Ern, forced by a caring mother and boss Ezra Norton, to give up boxing and focus on press photography. It was a big step for the young pro. after he won all six of his bouts in the ring, as “Ernie Mac,” by knockouts.

Was that the wondrous Betty Cuthbert who ran out onto an empty athletic field as a favour to Ern, to give Ern (and ME) an action shot?

Betty Cuthbert kindly posed this shot for Ern.

Some trick on this ordinary person, those two years of discussions between Ern and me! One emotional outcome for me is a desperate longing to see books and at least one film result from this great Australian’s fascinating life, making good use in the Ken Burns mode, of hundred’s of photographs at his disposal.

The pictures and comments of this post are an iceberg tip. The rest makes an amazing story.

There is the potential for several books – on our nation’s twentieth century history, and on remarkable, passionate incidents for several sporting categories.

Film Makers? Book Publishers?

Where are you? In Australia or anywhere.

Let his amazing records be known for the future. We have hundreds of pictures. The research is done. Find him and give his art to the future. You will not be sorry!

I feel so strongly about the majesty and excitement of Ern’s life I need to give it a high place in my “TO DOs” here. He is still a delight to talk to. My next posts in this place will try to show you more of the adventure, the significance and the variety of that life.

Ern’s Picture of Fireworks – Celebration 1946 War’s End!

Here’s to Ern, a warrior I have been extremely lucky to find.

Royce

All images on this site are my own or from Wiki Commons. If there is any error, please tell me and I will fix things immediately. All my thanks to the wonderful Wiki service, and to the artists who share their strength and bring us joy.